


the rest of you, the best of you, honey belongs to me

by broken_crown (thatsouthernanthem)



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Smut, So yeah, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, background male Rook/Joey, but like...it's ok bc they love each other, mentions of previous torture, that's it basically, they just don't know it yet, two deputies for the price of one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 23:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20479409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsouthernanthem/pseuds/broken_crown
Summary: A one-shot set in a bigger universe--Deputy Maddy Forrester has returned to Fall's End after saving Deputies Staci Pratt and Rook Dewitt. After making sure her best friend is okay, Maddy turns her attention to Staci.Basically just smut.





	the rest of you, the best of you, honey belongs to me

**Author's Note:**

> i suck at endings. i love staci pratt....the end :P

She allows herself a smirk as she watches Rook follow Joey up the stairs before knocking back another shot of whiskey. They deserve a moment of happiness and Joey looks ten times better than she did when Maddy and Rook had split up and headed for the other Heralds. 

Maddy catches the falter in Rook’s step though, and the way Joey reaches out for him, her hand sliding around his arm to make sure he doesn’t fall. He looks about as well as you’d expect for someone who spent weeks at a time, for months, being tortured by Jacob Seed. She shudders and wiggles her empty shot glass at Mary May, sick at herself once again, for not getting there sooner. 

A body crowds into her space, huddling against her arm in the dim light, and though she can’t hear the words his lips are whispering to himself over the noise of the bar, Maddy can tell that Staci Pratt is close to having a breakdown. She catches a quiet _ strong_, _ no weak_, and carefully wraps her fingers around his wrist to catch his attention. 

“Hey,” she murmurs, pulling him down so his ear is by her lips. “Let’s go upstairs, just hang out where it’s quieter.” She doesn’t wait for a reply, turning to Mary May and pointing at the bottle of whiskey behind the blonde. “Add it to my tab?”

“If I was keepin’ tabs right now, Forrester,” Mary May grins as she slides the bottle and two glasses down the bar, “you’d be owin’ me for a long time. But hell, I owe you so it’ll all be even.”

Maddy mouths her thanks before grabbing the bottle around the neck and pressing the glasses into Staci’s shaking hands. “Hold onto these for me, ‘kay? We gotta pretend to be classy, at least for the first few drinks.”

His shoulders relax, just a tiny bit, and he huffs a soft noise she thinks might be a laugh. All that matters is when he looks at her, under his too-long hair, his hazel eyes are clearer than they were a moment ago. 

They wind their way through the crowd--the bar extra full of the friends they made in the Henbane River Valley and the Whitetails, full of the Resistance and Militia members who want to celebrate the end of Jacob Seed. She catches a glimpse of Nick and Kim in the corner, baby Carmina in her carseat on the table before them and she can’t blame them for bringing the four month old to the bar, not when you can’t let those you love out of your sight. She’s surprised when she skirts around Eli and Tammy--shocked that they’d leave the Wolf’s Den, even though the area is safer than it has been in years. 

Eli grins at her and lifts his beer in her direction, sliding his arm around Tammy’s back as he tries to pull her toward the crowded dance floor--Maddy can hear her protests over the thumping beat of Dorothy’s Raise Hell. 

Staci presses his hand into hers, pushing his clammy palm into hers, and she’s quick to grab his fingers, to squeeze reassuringly. Glancing over her shoulder as she starts up the stairs, she meets his eyes and smiles at him. “You okay? You can just go to bed if you want? Rook’s not usin’ his room tonight, I guarantee you that.”

“No,” Staci shakes his head, his jaw tightening for a moment as he lets go of her hand to graze his fingers against her hip and she swallows hard, his movements reminiscent of the moment they had in the Wolf’s Den. “No, I wanna...I need to spend time with you.”

She nods, biting her lip and continuing up the stairs until they reach the upper floor of personal rooms that Mary May had been kind enough to give the deputies while they worked on saving the county. Shoving the bottle of whiskey under her arm, Maddy opens her door and clicks on the light. 

The room smells a little stale--in the months she’s been in the Henbane and then the Whitetails, it seems it’s gone untouched. The bed is made, the old quilt Mary May’s grandmother had made many years ago laid on top; clothes still hang in the closet, all loners from Mary May and Grace, and a few of Rook’s softer flannels. 

Setting the whiskey on the side table, Maddy curls her fingers around one of the columns of the old, wooden four-poster bed, offering Staci a smile. He moves to the whiskey and pours them healthy portions, his fingers shaking when he offers her the glass. “To you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and deep and she hates how it sends a shiver down her spine, hates that the pain in his voice still makes her weak in the knees for him. “For...barging into the Whitetails like a fuckin’ banshee and settin’ fire to everything to save us.”

“I’d never leave y’all behind,” Maddy whispers, her lips ghosting against the rim of the glass. She takes a pull of the alcohol, wincing slightly as it goes down warm. Staci is still staring at her, his eyes sunken behind bruises and scars. Setting the whiskey down, she shakes her head at him. “Stace, you’re okay, okay? You’re going to be okay, I’m gonna make sure--”

He cuts her off, shoving his own glass to the side table, the amber liquid sloshing over the side, before grabbing her face, pulling her away from the bedpost and into him. His lips slide over hers, rough and chapped, his tongue pushing its way into her mouth, the taste of him tinged with whiskey flooding her senses. She grabs at his hair, his shoulders, standing on her tip-toes to collide into him. 

Staci groans into her mouth, pressing her back, back, back, until she bumps into the wall beside the door. Her hand flies out to push the lock in before sliding her hand carefully under the hem of his shirt. He starts, then stills, then drags his mouth from hers to press his lips against her pulse, to scrape the wild beating with his teeth. “Is this, are you--”

“Yes,” Maddy whispers, cheeks burning red at the pure desperation in her voice. “God, _ yes_, touch me, Staci--”

His hands barely shake when they reach up to cup her face, his thumb dragging over the wound across her cheek, barely healed, then along the one at the corner of her lip. His eyes darken as his fingers trace a cut across her throat, flexing gently as she swallows hard. She moves to slide his shirt up, to trace the muscle she can just barely feel under her fingertips but he squeezes, just enough to stop her, a whine falling from her lips. 

“No,” he mutters, his voice gravelly as he ducks his head, scraping his teeth against her jaw. “Let me touch you first.” 

Biting her bottom lip, Maddy lets her head fall back against the wall, her hands hovering at her sides until she places her palms against the wood, to keep them still. The command in Staci’s voice is implicit--_ don’t move, don’t do anything, just let him take control. _ There’s a change in him now; gone is the timid, broken man she’s come to know since his rescue. Now she sees a flash of the old Staci, a flash of the man that grabbed her in the Wolf’s Den and kissed her senseless before his terror kicked back in. She’ll do anything to keep that from happening again. 

His mouth trails wet kisses down her throat, stopping to unbutton the flannel she’d stolen from Rook earlier in the day, licking at skin as it’s exposed, inhaling sharply at the _ wrath _ carved into her chest. It’s still red, tender from the infection that had set in while she traveled the Henbane--Tracey had given her some antibiotics the last time Maddy woke up at the jail, but the tissue surrounding the tattoo is still painful. Staci brushes soft fingertips across the word before ducking down and pressing his lips against it, murmuring things she can’t hear against the inflamed skin. 

He pushes the flannel off of her shoulders, tossing it behind him before unbuttoning her shorts and shoving them down the swell of her hips and ass, kicking them out of the way before bending before her to tug her shoes and socks off. His fingers trail up her legs, his featherlight touch tickling her and she shivers, shifts above him, clenching her thighs together as he brushes against the front of her panties. 

“Fuck,” she whispers, staring down at him as his eyes lock onto hers, as he presses himself closer to her center, as he hooks her knee over his shoulder and presses his mouth against her lace-covered cunt.

She trembles, her fingers winding into his hair as she whines, as she tries to increase the friction, but he stops her, his hands firm on her hips. “No,” he growls, his breath hot against her. “My way.”

Maddy nods frantically, pressing herself back against the wall in an effort to show she’s going to listen, that she’ll be good. His index finger hooks along the hem of her panties, tugging them to the side and his tongue darts out, lapping at her folds. She keens, her hand coming up to her mouth, as she tries her hardest not to rut against him. It’s been so long, months, since the last time anyone has touched her this way--Sharky was a reprieve until he realized fucking her wasn’t helping her in the slightest, and desperate to not ruin their friendship, he put an end to it. Her fingers against her clit in abandoned homes were nothing compared to the spear of Staci’s tongue, the stretch of his broader fingers as he slid them inside of her with little resistance. 

He groans from between her legs, pulling his fingers out to lick them clean before tugging her panties off and letting them follow the path of her other clothes. Staci stands, his hands spanning her hips, dancing up her ribs until they come to rest just below the lacy bralette she’d thrown on earlier. His thumbs drag over her nipples, already hard under the fabric, as he cups her small breasts, and he smirks, he _ fucking smirks _ and she’s almost overjoyed at the expression, at the normality of it on him. 

“Stace,” she whispers, her voice breaking as he pushes the bra up and over her head. He tugs her hair out of the sloppy ponytail it’s in, and cups her face, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. She can count the broken blood vessels on his skin, can see the way the bruise has painted blue and black, purple and yellow across his nose. “I-” She’s afraid of what she’s going to say, emotion bubbling up in her that seems too much too quick. Maddy shivers, naked in his arms as he searches her face. Her hands grab at his elbows, holding him there, against her, fully clothed. “I need you, please--”

He groans and she rises her on her tiptoes to swallow it in a kiss, crushing her mouth against his. Staci grabs her around her waist, his large hands spanning the width of her body to swing her away from the wall, to press her against the quilt spread out on the bed. She wants to push his clothes off of him, to bare him to her like she is to him, but he pins her hands to the bed with one of his own wrapping around her thin wrists. 

She wonders if she’s just that much smaller, thinner, than him, or if she really hasn’t taken care of herself as well as she thought. His free hand trails down her ribs and drag over the sharp jut of her hipbone and she can hear him hum, tsk, to himself as if cataloging the “problems” he finds. She wants to grab him up, to tell him she’s okay, that she’s going to be fine now that she has him and Rook back, but he drags his tongue over the tattoo at her ribcage and her mind goes blank. 

His tongue traces the outline of the revolver on her skin; she can feel the spear of his tongue spell out the words on the scrollwork, the capitalized _ BANG _. Rook used to tease her about the silliness of ruining a perfectly good revolver tattoo, but right now as she squirms under his tongue, pinned to the bed with his hand, she’s terribly glad she opted for the dumb thing. 

Sucking a bruise into her skin just under the tattoo, Staci finally sits back, fixing her with a look when he lets go of her hands. Maddy keeps them where he leaves him, stretched up over her head, arching her back just enough to make a pretty picture for him to take in before he begins kicking off his shoes. He shucks his pants down over his narrow hips before yanking the old shirt he wears off and behind him. 

His shoulders and chest are covered in bruises, in scratches, in marks that make her ache to hold him, to trace them and press kisses against each one and for half a second she can see the scared Staci flicker back into his eyes, as he hesitates with the hem of his briefs, his cock a hard outline under the fabric. 

Ignoring the worry of disappointing him, Maddy sits up and grabs his wrist, tugging him back onto the bed with her, sliding her hands up and into his hair, tilting his head to the side to kiss him as she presses her body against his. His hands fumble at her sides for a moment before dragging her thigh up and over his hip, rutting against her. 

She moans into his mouth at the feel of his cock against her folds, relishing the hard pulse of him even through the material of his underwear. Maddy pulls back, just enough to press her lips against the bruise on his cheek, the bruise on his nose, gently before looking him in the eyes. “Staci...let me touch you now? Please?” 

He hesitates again, his fingers spasming at her thigh and his jaw twitches with how tight he clenches it. Glancing down at the marks on his skin, worry painted clearly on his face, he grimaces. Maddy gently takes his chin and kisses him again, slowly, her hips pressing into his tightly. Staci nods, jerkily, allowing her to push him back against the mattress so she can hover over him. 

Carefully, Maddy lowers herself against him, her knees tucking against his ribs as she settles in his lap, shivering as she rolls her hips against Staci’s. He bucks up, into her, his cock straining against his briefs, but she forces herself to slow down, to duck down and press her lips against the bruise at his collarbone. 

She traces it with her tongue until she reaches the healing cut it stems from, at the dip of his sternum. He shudders under her, his hands ghosting over her bare skin before settling one on her hip, the other in her hair. Kissing the wound, she travels downward, branding each mark with her mouth, until she’s reached the waistband of his underwear. Glancing up at him, she swallows hard at the look in his eyes--how they’ve dilated with need, with want, of her--her fingers toying with the elastic as she mouths at the trail of hair that disappears under the fabric. 

Dragging her mouth along the hard outline of him, through the cloth, she can’t contain the moan that falls from her lips at the feel of him. He shudders at the vibration, his hand tightening in her hair, her name a whine as he presses his hips up toward her. She gives in, dragging the waistband down, grinning to herself as his cock springs free, heavy, red and leaking from its tip as it falls heavily against his stomach. 

He kicks the underwear down his legs as she settles between them, wrapping her hand at the base of his cock and tugging upward, twisting her wrist as she reaches the tip. Her thumb spreads the slick of his precum across the head, dragging her hand back down before leaning forward to lap at the salty taste of him. His hand is tight in her hair now, a constant pull that borders on painful, but the look on his face as she meets his eyes is worth any of the discomfort. 

A sound leaves him, like he’s been gutted, when she slips his cock between her lips, when she takes him deep into her mouth, and deeper still. She holds herself there, her palms flat on his thighs, his hand flexing in her hair, curses and sighs leaving him in huffs as she swallows him down, her nose pressing against the soft hair at his stomach. Pulling back, she gasps for air, a string of spit connecting her lips to his cock in the most obscene way and she loves it. It makes her feel powerful, the way his thighs tremble, the way he can’t quite get words out. She goes forward, to take him in her mouth again but his hand tugs her hair sharply, pulling her away from his cock. 

She whines, batting his hand away from her hair so she can take him in her mouth once more, bobbing her head as she moves up and down his length. There’s something she loves about this--the weight of him on her tongue, the taste of him, the knowledge that with a few more expert twirls of her tongue and maybe the barest scrape of her teeth, she can have him coming in seconds. 

Growling, Staci tugs her away, rolling them over, lifting her leg to his shoulder and sliding inside of her in one swift movement. Maddy chokes out a sob as the air in her lungs leaves her, her hand flying to the side to grip at the sheet as he pushes her down, pressing her into the mattress, her knee nearly at her shoulder as he pounds into her. The stretch of his thick cock sends flutters through her belly; she was prepared for him, nearly dripping wet, and still the sudden intrusion burns in the best way. 

Her other hand slides into his hair, holding it out of his face as she tries to keep focus on him, to watch as he fucks her, half checking to make sure he’s okay and half-desperate to see the snarl of his lip, to watch him growl out her name as he possesses her in a way she didn’t know she needed--in a way she’s not entirely sure he’d be able to do before all of this. 

It makes her feel bad, knowing that his pain has resulted in her pleasure, but then he’s slipping out of her to roll her over onto her belly, his hands at her lower back to hold her to the mattress before pushing back inside of her from behind, and the white-hot coil inside of her tightens further, driving any coherent thought out of her mind. 

Her moans are muffled by the sheets, her fingers sore from how they scrape for purchase in the blanket. He stutters in his fast rhythm, dipping his head to mouth along her spine, to bite at her shoulder, to whine in her ear at how _ fucking tight _ she is and all of it is too much--his voice, the scrape of his teeth, the press of his cock inside of her at an angle that hits every single perfect spot--and she comes harder than she thinks she’s ever come before. 

Mouth open in a silent sob, Maddy presses back against him, her cunt rippling around his cock, urging him to follow suit, but he tugs her up so his arm is wrapped around chest, so she’s on her knees and her back against him, fucking up into her, his free hand snaking around to circle her clit, driving her over the precipice once more. This time she has to clap her hand over her mouth, bite at her fingers, to keep from screaming, to keep from drawing unwanted and unneeded attention from Rook’s nearby room. 

Staci bites down on her shoulder again, bruising her as he comes, but he’s just as quick to lave his tongue over the indentations of his teeth, to soothe the sting as he empties himself into her. Carefully, he lowers her back to the bed, letting her rest on her stomach as he falls back onto his heels. “Shit,” he mutters, running a hand over his face and Maddy forces herself to roll over, as much as she’d love to just lay there and bask in the soreness between her legs. She grabs at his hand as he tries to stutter out apologies, “Mads, I’m so--” 

Cupping his face between her hands, Maddy strokes the cut at his cheek carefully, fixing him with a glare that stops his half-formed words. “Staci Pratt, if you are trying to apologize for fucking me within an inch of my life while your dick is still half-hard--” and he makes a choked noise there, his eyes darting down to his cock, shifting until she tightens her hold on his face, “--then you better rethink your life right now. Because that’s nothin’ to apologize for. And I am about to pass the fuck out because I have nothing left in me but exhaustion, but you better fuckin’ believe that tomorrow morning I’m going to return the favor.”

She lets go of his face and points at the pillow next to hers and jerks her head toward it. “So you better lay down and cuddle me, and be here in the morning or I swear to God I’ll--”

He cuts her off, kissing her hard, all tongue and teeth and desperation and she swears it tastes like love. Her heart aches, her fingers thread through his hair, and she lets him tug her down to lay against the pillows. He pulls away first, pressing kisses against her cheeks and nose, her chin and throat, holding her body against his. 

She can feel the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows hard, as he tucks her head under his chin. She can feel the beat of his heart and the shift in his jaw as he smirks softly above her. “Within an inch of your life, huh?”

“Shut up, Staci,” Maddy breathes, grinning against his chest. “Go to sleep.”


End file.
